"I thought it was the old banking families at first. You know, Morgan and the rest. But then I wondered how there could have been a recurring effort to put them down, to reclaim the money system from the people who create it in the form of debt, rather than as payment for work done, the way the gang at Independence Hall laid it out when they founded this country. And I had to wonder if there wasn't another player out there, and that maybe this struggle has been going on for longer than that, even."
Lembridge relaxed a bit, dropping his arms and draping his fingers over the edge of the table's felt inner ledge. "Like the perpetual struggle between good and evil?"
"Something like that, yeah. Maybe. Or perhaps a competition between two secret societies that have been manipulating humanity for millennia. But the point is that we have to start looking at the evidence, at all of the evidence, and in a way that doesn't discard out of hand the possibility that what we see isn't really what's going on. Because sometimes, the truth is only obvious in hindsight. Sometimes, the only way to get there is by seeing the world in ways that others don't."
"So what do you intend to do?"
"Bury Mr. Davis, for one thing. But not too deeply, and not too far away. There's plenty of lawn out there, and I've found a few shovels. If you want to help, I'd be thankful for it."
Lembridge stepped away from the pool table, and faced Ryan squarely. "I think I would."
"Great." Ryan started towards the door, then stopped and turned back. "I do have one question for you before we start."
"Oh?"
"You said you had a personal bone to pick with Davis. What was it?"
He smiled. "My sister. She worked on K Street, for one of the more specialized lobbying outfits. They focused on environmental issues, mostly. She thought she was one of the good guys, helping show Congress and the various agencies how their decisions affected the planet."
Ryan shrugged. "I don't understand. From what you just said, I'd say she was one of the good guys. That's the upside of lobbying."
"You're right. And she was proud of her work there. But then she discovered that some of their work was being directed by outside interests. They were being used as cover, to make people like me vote for things that had other effects as well. Far worse ones."
"So why didn't she come here herself?"
"That's kind of hard when you're dead. She was killed in an explosion. What's left of the media parroted the usual drivel about some lone terrorist who blamed environmentalists for destroying the economy. But after talking with you, I'm pretty sure it was much simpler. They just weren't useful any more."
"Grisly. But what does that have to do with our stiff?"
Lembridge didn't answer right away. Instead, he continued on into the kitchen and stopped in front of Davis' smelly corpse, still hanging there face down over the sink. "Our boy ran a clearing house for coordinating lobby activities, watching out for conflicts that could get them in each others' way, right?"
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